7

Anthony awoke the next morning, his entire body aching dully, and realised he'd spent the entire night in the hallway.

He sat up slowly, the walls spinning around him, before he managed to struggle to his feet.

His back protested as he straightened up, having spent a good six hours curled up on the hard floor.

He made his way slowly to the bathroom, stumbled inside, and locked the door.

Glancing at his watch, Anthony saw it was almost ten o'clock. Jamie would have left hours ago, either to go to work, or to the pub.

Anthony hauled himself over to the sink, and began carefully washing crusted blood from his face. His eye was painfully swollen, his jaw stiff to open.

He avoided looking in the mirror unless he had to; he quickly applied a little make-up to cover the worst of the bruising; he'd learnt to skilfully apply make-up after the beatings became more regular.

A loud wail from the end of the hall made him turn in surprise, jarring his back painfully.

Lily.

It had been hours since she'd last been fed, unless Jamie had taken it upon himself to think of another human being for once in his life, and had fed and changed her while Anthony was unconscious.

Anthony made his way to Lily's room as fast as he could, and picked her up gently.

He cradled her to his chest for a moment to comfort her, before he quickly checked her for bruises. He wouldn't put it past Jamie to hurt an innocent baby, crying for her dinner.

Anthony carried Lily downstairs, and quickly made up a bottle.

She was soon sucking contentedly, gurgling quietly. She looked up at Antony with gorgeous baby-blue eyes, and Anthony felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of guilt.

"We've got to get out of here, kiddo," he murmured to her, breathing in her warm, milky scent with a sigh of satisfaction. "Before he hurts you too... I promise, we'll leave soon. I need to make some arrangements."